The Lover's Game
by Spydertiger
Summary: Tyki Mikk was beautiful, cruel and arrogant. Arrogant to ever think he could understand something as mysterious and complex as a woman like her. One-shots


From the very beginning, he owned the room. It was almost disgusting, the way he could glide effortlessly in and win everyone's approval with a mere adjusting of his tie, as though he'd taken all the elegance in the world and made it his. Still, it was hard to begrudge him for it; everyone had to talk to him, to bask in his spotlight even just for a moment. He was rich and charismatic, so all the men wanted to befriend him. He was unabashedly handsome, so all the women wanted to stand by him. You loved him, you adored him, you envied him, you hated him, and then you despised yourself for doing so, for who could wish ill on such an exquisite gentleman?

The evening was his, and he acknowledged this thought with a gentle smile that made several young ladies swoon.

But as he stood, graciously explaining the origins of this particular bouquet of wine to a fascinated elderly man, he suddenly became aware of a lapse in his audience's attention. Indeed, even the old man paused to cast his gaze towards the door, his sunken eyes shining as he did so. A silence did not fall, but the surrounding chatter became hushed for a second before rising into excitement and gossip, much like the sea retreating before a tsunami. People were pointing, whispering, _wondering_ – but what on earth at?

He turned around.

A vision of perfect loveliness stood by the door, shimmering softly under the light from the chandeliers. Her milky skin glowed in the candlelight, and her blonde hair fell to her pretty shoulders with almost angelic ease. As everyone watched, her shell-pink lips parted and she laughed gaily – and Tyki knew that the room was no longer his.

When she stood still, everyone drank in her gestures, her elegant white fingers, the way she lifted her chin slightly to expose that swooping pedestal of a neck. When she walked, everyone gazed at the navy satin of her dress, the way it slunk and slid over her curves, the slight sway to her hips that caused many a young man to blush and turn away.

Even the young women, vicious as they were with their envious eyes and catty jealousy, melted with gratitude when she chose to spoke to them; they laughed with her, complimented her, made any excuse to touch her, unconstrained by the etiquette that bound the gentlemen to a respectful distance. One girl would stroke the single piece of jewellery she wore – a simple silver pendant resting on her collarbone – and another would briefly link arms as she told a joke. It was as though they were clinging desperately to her grace and allure, trying to absorb even the tiniest fraction of what they could never achieve.

Disappointingly for many a young man, the blonde beauty seemed reluctant to dance. She'd shake her head – oh, how she could shake her head – or confess to being too shy (accompanied by an achingly delicate lowering of her eyelids) and move gracefully away. Her disinclination to join any of them only made them more curious, more desperate, and more fascinated.

Scowling slightly to himself, Tyki took a minute sip of red wine. He'd never even suspected she'd show up, and especially looking so – so _interesting_. It was hurtful, yes, almost insulting, to have her waltz in and claim his spotlight with just a bat of the eyelid and a swing of the hips.

Oh, those hips…to him, they were always hidden, clad in dark trousers and suit jackets, her curves only ever hinted at by that seductively feminine walk. He rarely saw her like this, beautiful, desirable, and dangerously irresistible.

It was as he stood by the piano, privately toying with these strangely appetizing thoughts, that Tyki became aware of a shift in the room's dynamic. As he stepped back to allow a waltzing couple pass, he noticed two young women whispering excitedly to one another, their questioning gazes flickering over him for as long as was prudent. And then one of them craned her neck around to catch another glimpse of the glamorous Lulu Belle, and he smiled to himself, setting his glass down with a sigh. He should have guessed; it was only natural. For humans and their boundless imaginations, everything was a story, and of course they preferred to contemplate other's lives as opposed to their own – it was so delicious, so tantalizing, wasn't it?

Yes that's right, he thought dryly, spotting a middle-aged husband and wife whispering behind their hands. Don't waste an evening on your _own_ marriage, it's far too _boring_, isn't it? Because Lulu and I, we're exciting, aren't we? We're young, beautiful, everything you wish you were. Perhaps we'll talk, perhaps we'll even touch. Maybe I'll ask her to dance, maybe she'll say no.

Isn't it thrilling?

Languidly, casually, as though he hadn't noticed a thing, Tyki put his hands behind his back and began a slow, controlled stroll around the room, as though he were merely enjoying the atmosphere. Eyes followed him wherever he turned and for a moment he smiled once more – _this_ was more like what he was used to. Lulu Belle remained where she was, at the edge of the dance floor, engaged in polite conversation with a red-haired woman in an obscenely green dress.

In spite of himself, Tyki felt a slight thrill as she glanced up briefly, her grey eyes grazing his for just the slightest of seconds. Outwardly, he remained smooth and polished, and he continued past a short fat waiter, pausing only to sample a tiny caviar-encrusted biscuit. Lulu Belle continued talking, as though she'd barely even registered his existence.

Feeling anxious eyes on his back, Tyki grinned happily. What a game this was, he thought with pleasure. To be able to stir the guests up so much with a mere glance, a mere lowering of the eyelids. In fact…he stopped once more beside the drinks table, and fixed his gaze rather pointedly on Lulu Belle, allowing his expression to become sharp and thoughtful.

He closed his eyes in delight at the sound of frenzied whispering. They were under his control once more. It was quite ridiculous, he thought, the fact that he only had to look at Lulu Belle to incite rumours and gossip.

As the evening wore on, it soon became apparent that Lulu Belle could ignore Tyki no longer. Many a young woman had sidled up to her and indicated the attractive young man hovering at the edge of the room. It was on one such occasion that their eyes met as Lulu Belle was running a seemingly thoughtful gaze over his well-cut suit.

They stared at one another for just the briefest of seconds, but it was one accompanied by a flash of understanding. The humans were curious, were they? Lulu Belle had seen the sly smile creeping over Tyki's lips – he was enjoying himself immensely. She pursed her lips and turned away. No, she was not ready to become a pawn in another one of his childish games with these humans. Their emotions were too complex, too tangled to be of any fun to her.

Tyki, for his part, was not about to let her go so easily. He could feel the evening undulating beneath his grasp – sometimes his, sometimes Lulu Belle's. If he wanted to maintain his position in the spotlight, he'd have to keep himself interesting for the humans.

Besides, Lulu Belle fascinated him. Tyki valued beauty hugely, and in that respect Lulu Belle was a diamond. He detested the idea of her falling into the hands of some human – no, the idea was just too repulsive. Almost repulsive as the idea that she held any sort of sway over him...

He dabbed at his lips with a napkin and fended off all imaginings of what navy satin would feel like under his fingers.

The game descended into a kind of strange war between Tyki and Lulu Belle, a war visible only to them. As they moved around the room, they carefully circled one another, too widely to be noticed by any of the other guests. Sometimes he'd stop to join in a conversation, and then find her once more in the crowd once he started moving again. At one point he lost her altogether, and after that made a point of always keeping her in his line of vision.

And that was how he noticed that, for the most fleeting of moments, Lulu Belle's suspicious expression shifted into curiosity – a _hungry_ curiosity. He refused to return it, instead moving towards a rotund old lady to compliment her on her elaborate earrings.

When he next turned to look at Lulu Belle, she was facing away, taking delicate sips of her wine. Her hair, no longer scraped back into her furiously neat little ponytail, hung perfectly against her smooth back, and he imagined the gentle hushing sound it made as it glided over her dress.

She turned around to put her glass down, and he saw the rise and fall of her breast as she breathed. Again he found himself picturing how she'd feel under his touch, and he clenched one fist in his pocket.

This wouldn't do. He was losing the interest of the guests with growing rapidity, and besides, he was overwhelmed with a desire to touch her, even for a moment, to value her as one would a priceless object.

Yet every time he drew close, she would move away, as though they were two opposing poles destined never to meet. It should have frustrated him, and it did, but truthfully it just made her more fascinating. For a moment he wondered if she was doing it on purpose, and then she glanced over her shoulder at him – and flashed a taunting smile.

It made him pause in shock. Was she…playing a game with _him_? The thought made him grind his teeth. The very idea that she could lead him around like a puppet was humiliating beyond belief. This was _his_ evening, and _his_ game. The humans were his amusement and he was no one else's. It was time to demonstrate this to Lulu Belle.

Fuelled by conviction and indignation, he strode over to where Lulu Belle was handing her empty glass to a waiter.

She didn't even turn around as he stood behind her, smiling once more.

"Good evening."

Two words. With two words, the entire atmosphere turned pink with whispers as the assembled guests all gleefully indicated the beautiful pair to one another.

Lulu Belle twisted around with a flick of her golden hair. "Oh, it's you."

That _really_ set everyone talking, Tyki realised with a slight scowl. He could see what Lulu Belle was doing; with those three words she had demonstrated to everyone that she and Tyki already knew each other fairly well. _Another_ delicious twist to the tale.

Well, he wasn't about to let her steal all their attention. He was a master of their emotions, and he knew exactly what would tempt them. "Is that how you greet me after all this time?"

Oh yes, he thought, lip curling. They liked that. The whispers intensified. So the couple had a history, did they? How exciting! Had they perhaps been lovers, long ago, destined to meet here once more?

Lulu Belle arched one perfect eyebrow. "Would you rather I ask how you've been?"

"Do you care?" As he spoke, he took a step closer. Lulu Belle mirrored this with a slight step sideways.

"Don't be ridiculous," she continued as she walked. He followed her movements; they were truly circling one another now, with graceful, slow steps akin to a dance. "As if my caring has ever meant anything to you."

Oh, that was good, he had to admit. She had the tone just right; cold, aloof, but just slightly wounded, painting a picture of a beautiful, passionate woman scorned.

It was almost believable.

"It never meant anything, my dear, because you never _did_ care," he remarked, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he walked around and around. "Never as much as I did."

"Now you're being stupid," said Lulu Belle, her voice lowering to a hiss. "Stop playing games with me, Tyki."

And he realised she was bored of this, she didn't want to put on a façade for the guests. He wasn't quite ready to let her go, however. "Games, Lulu?"

"What are you trying to do?" she asked icily.

"You're very beautiful," he told her softly, and several watching guests swooned. But Lulu Belle looked deep into his rather cold brown eyes, and saw his true meaning. You're beautiful, Lulu Belle. You're too beautiful. This is _my_ domain, these are my people to play with. You're not allowed to be so beautiful around them.

"_I_ am not yours," she replied in an undertone, her grey gaze hardening. "You think you can turn me into an accessory to your fun?"

The sharpness of her tongue sent a shiver up his spine. They had stopped circling and stood face to face, each attempting to stare the other down. Lulu Belle's pretty pink lips clenched in a cross frown as she glared at him. She was so close he could smell the lilac of her perfume.

"Accessory, Lulu?" he murmured. "You were always the centrepiece."

"No, Tyki," she replied. "_You _were always the centrepiece. Which is why you cannot handle my being here."

She fixed him with a defiant glare, her eyes boring into him. A shudder ran through him once more, and he forced a smile.

"You know, Lulu, you always seemed so composed, so…tame."

Narrowing her eyes, she did not waver for an instant as he leant in close.

"My apologies," he breathed. "You're quite the little wildcat."

"Mm," she replied softly, her sweet breath tickling his earlobe. "And you're asking for a scratch."

"Are you angry? It makes you very charming."

"Then kiss me," she challenged, her lips grazing jawbone. "Show them what they think they see."

The assembled spectators continued to surreptitiously observe the pair from afar, feeling that what they were observing was almost too intimate, too private for their eyes. They looked, and they saw two beautiful lovers, whispering sweetly into one another's ears, rebuilding broken promises as they flirted the night away.

Tyki and Lulu Belle looked into one another's eyes, and saw rivalry and contempt.

"No."

"You won't?"

By way of a reply, he slid his hand down her slim arm and brushed against the inside of her palm, making her own fingers flex instinctively around his. "Let's dance, Lulu."

She laced her hand through his and pulled him towards her, sliding her arm around his back. "You're very brave tonight, Tyki."

"Brave? How so?" he enquired as he cradled her in the crook of his arm.

"Well," she mused, raising her eyes to the ceiling as they slowly waltzed. "You're surrendering."

He released her and elegantly spun her by one hand, before catching her once more and clasping her close. "Please, Lulu, tell me _how_ I am surrendering," he remarked with amusement.

Her eyes remained hooded, and disinterested. "You move with me, but not into me."

"I beg your pardon?"

With a powerful click of her heels, she twisted them both around in a graceful curve, her blonde locks following the movement like an arc of gold. "You don't _lead _the dance."

"Is it so brave of me, to want to be a gentleman?"

"It's brave of you to let me take control," she purred, pushing herself forward so that he was forced to step backwards from her.

"Don't fool yourself," he declared as she held herself close, hiding her face against his right shoulder. "It's just one dance."

"Is it, though?" she enquired dreamily. "Isn't that all everything is – a dance of life and death?"

Their movements had slowed altogether, and he contemplated the thought as they swayed gently on the spot. Lulu Belle let go his hand, and let her own rest on his other shoulder.

"You're in a very strange mood tonight, Lulu Belle."

"It's a beautiful idea though, isn't it?" she pressed. "The Earl came up with it."

He stared down at the graceful curvature of her neck meeting her shoulder, bared to him with complete and utter vulnerability. "I don't agree with it."

"You don't?"

"No. Life's not a dance. That sounds too…controlled. Too contrived. You always know what will happen next in a dance. Life's nothing like that."

Lulu Belle lifted her head from his shoulder. "You're wrong." As she spoke, she placed her hand on his left forearm and began gently guiding it over her waist. "All the women you've danced with are pathetic. That's why you think a dance is predictable. You're always in control."

She leaned back and looked him straight in the eyes as she moved his hand over the undulations of her body, allowing it to rest on her hip. With her other hand, she slipped her fingers into the small space between his starched white collar and soft warm skin to touch his neck.

Tyki stared down at her, and moistened his lips. It was a nervous, hasty gesture, but Lulu Belle had seen it nonetheless. She laid her hand against his chest, and they circled slowly around the dance floor together, his hands apparently glued to her silken blue hips.

"Are you trying to control me?" he asked with a curl of his lip, staring vacantly over her shoulder.

Lulu Belle was silent as she pressed the tips of her fingers into the nape of his neck. He made a half-hearted attempt to move to the left, but she refused to let him, instead forcing him into dancing slowly to the right. "Let go of me, Tyki."

"What?" he stared down at her, and she gazed back with grey eyes, splintered by heavy black lashes.

She moved closer once more and gently pressed her leg against his inner thigh. "Give me up to be someone else's dance partner for the night."

It was a challenge, not a command. She was openly questioning whether or not she _was_ controlling him, daring him to relinquish her to someone else.

In another time, he would have done it with almost contemptuous ease; she was not dear to him in the least, not in the emotional sense. But as she stared up at him with those sultry eyes, as he felt her hips roll under his palm and her hand rub behind his ear, he was suddenly loathe to let her go.

She was simply too beautiful. No one was as deserving of her as he was, and he determined that no one else would have her. She had challenged and insulted him, and from the way she was examining him so keenly now, it was clear she thought she had won.

Well, she was mistaken, he thought with a wry smile. He was not so fool as the airheaded young men that drooled and hankered after her; no, he _coveted_ her. If she controlled him, he thought to himself, then he would own her.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, pulling her closer by the waist. They swayed on the spot, mouths moving gently against one another in a kiss fuelled not by lust, but by curiosity.

They broke apart and Lulu Belle regarded Tyki with contemplative composure, fingering his dark locks thoughtfully. All around them, people whispered and gaped, but their performance was no longer for them; it was for each other.

"Well?"

"You're still too gentle," she chided. "My turn, I think."

And she kissed him back, holding him still closer by gripping him round the back of the neck with both arms, forcing his mouth open with hers. This time the kiss was briefer, and fiercer, but they still remained impassive and emotionless when they parted once more.

"You kiss like you dance, my dear," he commented. "Brutally."

"Is that supposed be an insult?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. "You kiss like you fight," she added, breathing into his ear. "Half-heartedly."

"Like I fight?"

"You've fought me the whole evening, Tyki," she said dryly.

"Oh Lulu Belle, as if anyone would be able to fight _you_."

"Indeed," she said, detaching herself from his neck and removing his hands from her waist. "Incidentally, you lost."

He regarded her coolly. "Did I, now?"

"Twice."

Before he could question what she meant, she raised one elegant hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him close. She brushed her nose against his, and he closed his eyes, pressing his mouth to hers once more.

"And thrice."

"I beg your – "

Shrugging, Lulu Belle stepped back from him. "You think I have no sway over you? You may have said no when I asked for a kiss, but you just gave me two, entirely voluntarily."

Tyki was silent.

"How many more will I be receiving from you?"

"None."

"We'll see," she said with a hazy smile, turning to go.

He watched the white-and-blue figure disappear into the crowd, and folded his arms, feeling slightly cheated. Lulu Belle, in control of _him_? How despicable.

One day, Lust would give way to Pleasure. He vowed it.


End file.
